Four Seasons '97
by Etemenanki
Summary: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels, Triple H/Shawn Michaels SLASH. When the windows are damp from their breath and it's late in the night and morning still seems an eternity away. And he wishes morning might never come.


**Four Seasons '97**

The hotel rooms pass them by as the seasons do. It's autumn. It's winter.

The roads are blown with snow and ice and everything takes longer than it should. Sometimes they don't care. Sometimes Shawn travels with Hunter and everything is all right. They laugh and joke and get under each other's skin. When the windows are damp from their breath and it's late in the night and morning still seems an eternity away. And he wishes morning might never come.

He loses his belt, he gets it back, but eventually it's dawn. Rose-red on hospital white clouds.

And there he is. And there he goes and tells them he's lost his smile. And he's not sure whether it was just drama or the truth. But he goes, he goes and he's on so much pain killers he doesn't even care.

It's still winter. It's spring.

It's May and he's back again and they are on a plane. Underneath stretches the earth, suddenly small, suddenly fragile. When they get out the wind doesn't cut their faces like daggers anymore. Soon the leaves will be green.

And they work and everyone knows this is more than work. Shawn is most alive when he finally stands in the ring, adrenaline rushing through his body and the crowd so loud it hurts his ears.

There are times he's all fucked up and on pain killers while Hunter is driving. Then Hunter is silent and he knows he has disappointed him again. But Hunter never leaves.

It's spring.

They laugh a lot. They party a lot. He's there in the corner with Bret. And he actually doesn't _like_ him and neither does Bret. But sometimes they forget about it and go hunting for pretty girls together.

Then again, he can't stand to see his face and throws insults on National TV to prove he truly is the arrogant bastard everybody thinks he is. Not that Bret is any better than him.

It's summer.

The heat feels like home. When he closes his eyes the warmth engulfs him.

He breaths in sunlight, white and burning and glorious.

Then someone showers him with cold beer and he is on his feet and runs laughing after that son-of-a-bitch.

It's still summer.

And the sun is gleaming and it's fucking hurting in his eyes. And Hunter throws out the girl from last night. And Hunter is in a foul mood. And why the fuck is he still there?

It's still summer and they're on the road again. Life seems endless. Until they get hurt. They will slowly learn that they're not invincible. And with that knowledge they will weaken even more.

But they are young and they are on the road and that's the only thing that counts. Going there, from show to show and city to city and girl to girl.

Everything changes, but the guys stay at his side. Hunter stays. Even Bret does. He still doesn't like him. He still forgets about it from time to time. And when it counts, when they are in the ring, they are glorious together. They give their best and it's better than anything before them. Because that's where the centre of their lives truly lays: In the ring.

When they are not in the ring they insult each other. Or do cocaine together. He's there in the club and Hunter is long gone and Bret is next to him and somehow he leans over. Pushing his lips to Bret's cheek and then Bret turns his head and their mouths meet. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes and hatred and he wants all of that.

A few days later he says that Bret fucks Sunny. Bret tries to rip his head off and ends up with a string of hair instead.

Shawn's never been more furious and so he leaves. A month later he's back.

It's autumn again. And the leaves going all brown and muddy makes him fucking depressed. Everyone has a big ego, everyone is afraid. They know they won't stay on top forever. A new storyline and they can fall. It's that what makes them restless. What makes it impossible to enjoy the triumph for long.

He's on painkillers again, had a bit of coke with Bret, too and now he's miserable. Coming down. Falling down that hight. Yeah baby, crashing and burning, except it feels more like drowning. No air, no air, no air.

He knows he should just flush the pills down the toilet. He doesn't do it.

Then there's Hunter and DX is born and they have a hell of a lot of fun tearing the house down. It's glorious. _Controversial motherfuckers _is what they call them. But yeah, they only got to words for those people.

It's nearly winter. He hates winter. It's cold and grey and desolate.

He doesn't know what to do and how to deal with himself. Nobody does. But Hunter's there and catches him every time he falls. Shawn wonders how long he will still stay. How long until he leaves him. And why the fuck he hasn't yet.

Don't go, he pleads into Hunter's ear at night, don't go, don't break my heart.

Hunter stays silent, but he stays.

It's November and they're in Montreal and the world is about to fall to pieces. Then it falls to pieces. And he's the one who threw the stone into that glasshouse. Because he had to. Because in the end he always does what's best for the company. But what's best for them isn't necessarily for him. That time he's so high he doesn't even notice.

It's spring again. Finally. And when the warmth of the first sun-ray hits him he really doesn't know how he survived without it. White his eyes closed he lays there in his hotel bed. It's comfortable but it stinks of too much Jack Daniel's the night before. The pain in his head and the sickness in his stomach let him tremble. He should just throw it all up. But he might wake Hunter who sleeps there beside him and he really doesn't want to do that. For a heartbeat he is irritated and his gaze follows the line of Hunter's broad shoulders. His chest and the white linen bed sheets that stick to his sweaty body. He's still there. So yeah, he really doesn't want to wake him.

Glancing at the ceiling he wonders what life has still up its sleeve for him. The seasons will tell.


End file.
